Aliens in Paris Read online

small.”

  He pointed a long way beyond the edge of the map. A second map was offered. This time Seb took longer, turning the page this way and that. At last he shook his head:

  “My planet, c’est loin. Too far. These maps are no good!”

  The Americans had more questions, but Claude took charge. We already knew that the Concierge at Saint James had booked various cultural events for the alien visitors including a private viewing at three of the Mona Lisa.

  Claude said there was no reason to miss this chance to show off the best of Earth’s culture. After some discussion, it was agreed. On one condition, Seb and Des agreed to stop by the Palais de la Découverte that evening to look over some more maps. They could not stay long; they had tickets for the Opera.

  “Many, many years, have I dreamt of this planet,” explained Seb, “there is so much to enjoy!”

  “Has your journey taken a long time then?” asked an American hopefully, but what Seb said next was a shock:

  “No, but these past fifteen years we have fought a cruel enemy: the last five to own this sector of space. It’s a great joy to finally say: This planet is ours. Gentlemen, you are welcome to join our great Empire.”

  After that you could hear a pin drop.

  “Sorry,” I said, speaking aloud the thought we all shared.

  Seb said again:

  “We have fought fifteen hard years to own this sector, this planet is now ours.”

  This time, the Americans did not object as Seb and Des stood up to leave.

  “Come with us…” urged Des, taking my hand as he led me away with them, “After all, we are all human and our species are so similar we could breed.” He smiled with such warmth, I felt both sick and a little dizzy. Next he took my hand and stretched his fingers along mine and said: “We are 100% compatible”.

  What could he possibly mean?

  Dinner

  In the vast Salle Seb Planets of the Palais de la Découverte Seb sighed and shook his head. Des tapped a dial to indicate the time. Seb signed ‘one minute’. He once again paced along the wall and, carefully examining the maps stretched across tables and even lain on the floor.

  “There is no reference point” he muttered. He paused to look at a photo of the Horseshoe Nebula; again he sighed and shook his head. He turned to the equally frustrated scientists.

  “These maps - well if you could see the maps aboard my ships, then you would understand…”

  Seb clapped his hands together. “Of course! You must come! You must come aboard my ship!” He strode over to the pictures of the shuttle craft now cordoned off in the Bois de Boulogne, and the digitised images of the six larger ships high in the atmosphere.

  “This is my ship,” he said pointing to the ship at the centre of the formations. Then he pointed a picture of his shuttle. “You must come on our shuttle.” He waved to all the fifty or so scientists in the room, “On board our ship, you’ll see the maps.”

  “What, all of us?”

  “Everyone!”

  “You can’t mean me?”

  It was Patrick Moore from the UK, eighty plus, twenty stone and balding. He was no-one’s idea of an astronaut though he had arrived in Paris within hours of hearing that the tales of aliens. “Of course I mean you Patrick. Des will fly smoothly, gently. You will not feel a thing. Have you not spent all of your life looking at stars? Why not get a closer look?”

  “When do we go?” said one of the Americans

  “Tomorrow!” said Seb decisively, “After lunch, we’ll leave at two o’clock.”

  As we left for the Opera, Des’ fingers were once more looped through mine. During the afternoon, I had established that almost all of the information the aliens had on the Earth was three hundred years out of date. They knew a great deal of etiquette from the time of the Sun King Louis of France and seemed to have expected to be presented at court. They had heard of a young musical prodigy called Mozart. They spoke with reverence of the beauty of human females and Marie Antoinette in particular. They had no knowledge of the United States and were perplexed by the technologies and communications they saw all around them.

  “We believe there has been a cover up,” Des confided. “This planet is ready for first contact, but our enemies kept this secret.”

  “For our protection,” I asked anxiously

  “No for your preservation. Nascent worlds often come up with ingenious new technologies which can be jolly useful, not to say profitable, to their owners. Provided you do not wipe yourselves out. It’s a delicate time for any civilisation, when your technology is so advanced, your population so large.”

  Nothing Seb and Des said was ever particularly reassuring. They repeated their mantra “We come in peace” at regular intervals. Yet their attitude was one of surprised heirs to an unexpected fortune. They were cautious about making any commitments, and it was difficult to ascertain their true motives.

  Supper

  Tonight was clearly about pleasure. Both were inclined to sing and hum along to the Opera once they picked up a tune or even out of tune. At the interval more champagne was poured. Afterwards backstage, Seb was quick to invite a group of young dancers to join him at Le Duplex nightclub. While some of the scientists were finding it difficult to keep up with the pace. The youthful NASA military types were like eager pups trailing at Des and Seb’s heels, matching them in champagne glass for glass, and eagerly assessing the scantily clad performers. Des had learnt quite a few names, and was fast forming a posse about him. I was always there at the centre, as often as not Des now had his hand at my waist.

  Now I’m not normally fast, but to be at the centre of so much attention, to have this beautiful enigmatic man just look at me. Well it was intoxicating. Like a magnet drawn to metal, I found it impossible to draw away. Yet I knew it could not last, not for me.

  My memories of the club were hazy. It was noisy, smoky, and manic. Above the melee of dancers, semi naked girls gyrated atop narrow podiums. When one paused for a break, Des climbed up to take her place. Stripping off his jacket and shirt, he revealed an athlete’s physic. For the first time I saw the full extent of his cybernetic arm that stretched up into his shoulder and neck. He called to Seb who within seconds was at his side and similarly stripped. Then in a moment I shall never forget, they started to dance.

  On a stage not more than two metres wide, they performed a detailed routine, part military training, part gymnastics combining high karate kicks with tight spinning leaps. All to a high octane beat and the crowd went wild.

  After such a display both Seb and Des were in much demand. For me, it seemed my moment was over. I made my way back to the bar where Claude was watching and nursing a small Remy Martin. He saw me coming. At first he seemed a little disappointed then his mouth twitched as he hid a smile. At the same moment, I felt long fingers catch my wrist; I turned to see Des had followed me from the dance floor.

  “Where are you going?”

  I shrugged speechless. I was hardly listening just to see that he had followed me, to have him standing so close…

  “You and me?” It was a question. I hated being so obvious. I went to step away.

  “You must go,” said Claude pressing my bag into my hands and heading to the door. “It’s your only chance…” His meaning was clear. I was not sure whether it was an order or not. Was I still on duty? Whether Des understood what was going on, I could not tell. He did watch Claude leave with a long calculating look. Then he turned back to me. For an instant, he seemed to be speculating about something. He looked at me with a question in his eyes. He took my hand and drew me near.

  I breathed the metallic perfume of his skin. I felt the heat radiating from his body. I sensed his breath close to my ear. It was a moment of expectation, amidst the noise, the smoke, the movement, in that instance, we were just two people. Standing close together yes, but we were also all alone in our own world, lost in all time and space.

  “Yes or no?” He said.

  I
swallowed hard. I could not hold back. I reached up. I touched the tips of his hair and let my breath out in warm sigh towards his neck. My fingers brushed his jaw. He looked down.

  Yes or no? I made no reply. I just leaned in.

  And so we kissed. Not yet a passionate kiss, just a brief touch of our lips, and yet the sensation was electric. Instinctively I melted a little closer against him. With a smile he held me apart, perversely enjoying my tense anticipation.

  “Ready?”

  The hotel suite on the fifth floor was larger than anything I had ever seen before. There was a lounge, bar area, and balcony looking over Paris, at least two bedrooms and bathrooms to match. It was unnerving. This was one of the most expensive addresses in Paris. I went out on the balcony to see the view. As the warm breeze blew up from the city, I squeezed my hand bag for comfort and thought of what Claude had said.

  I had to do this.

  It was a unique chance.

  Des was just behind me, saying nothing.

  As I turned I saw a glint of the metal at his neckline and that decided me. I shivered though it was not cold. In that instant I knew what I must do. And I was angry with myself. I knew already what I would so next. I also knew it would haunt me: “I’m sorry this is not me. I must go…”

  Des paused and eyed me carefully.

  “Stay…”

  This was almost too much to bear. Would it really matter if I stayed?

  “Yes or no.” He repeated and smiled encouragingly.

  “No,” I said firmly.